Date: Thu, 16 Oct 2003 08:56:30 EDT
From: SolCorazon@aol.com
Subject: Enslaving David Chapter 3
Copyright 2003 SolCorazon. All rights reserved.
Disclaimer: If love and sex offend you, if you are under 18
and/or this is illegal in your area, don't read.
This story is copy written by me and may not be used without
my permission. All of the people in this story exist only in
my twisted dreams.
If you like this story, please let me know at SolCorazon
(at) aol.com
To JB. Your words move me. I miss you. I love you.
Enslaving David
By SolCorazon
Chapter 3
I wasn't gonna think about what I was doing. That would be a
fucking waste of time, because no matter what, I wasn't
changing course now. I had been feenin for him all day.
I kept seeing those gray blue eyes everywhere. There was
something about his pale, cream colored skin that had me
wondering what it would look like against the dark brown of
my own. I was curious about the texture of his hair. It
looked like it would feel so soft.
He followed me out of the bar. I told him where we were
headed and waited while he walked to his car. My condo was
in the center of downtown and it only took us a few minutes
to get there.
When I let him into my apartment, he stood in front of me,
hands at his side, and eyes lowered. I grabbed his chin and
raised his head.
"Undress me," I told him.
"Yes, Sir," he said.
"When I want you to call me Sir, I'll tell you to," I said.
"Yes, Sss..I mean, ok," he said.
After he removed my clothes, I went over to the couch, sat
down, and told him to crawl to my side. I watched him make
his way over to me, unable to take my eyes off of him as he
crawled towards me, somehow making the awkward movements
graceful.
"Stand up and take your clothes off," I said.
He obeyed immediately.
He was finely made but I could tell that he didn't think so.
He didn't seem to be the kind of guy who took a lot of pride
in his appearance. He didn't have that, `look at me I'm so
cute,' body language that some guys who look like him have.
He stood there with the quiet confidence of someone who is
comfortable in their own skin.
There was a thin line of hair that started at the center of
his chest and stopped at his groin. It looked so fine that I
was reaching out to touch it and see for myself if it was as
soft as it looked before I realized what I was doing. He
inhaled sharply and flinched. His breathlessness made my
cock even harder.
I could tell that he was trying not to look at me. He was
trying to be what he thought I might want him to be, but he
wasn't sure exactly what that was. I was glad that he was
trying to pick up clues but wasn't being pushy and assuming
that he knew what I wanted. I hate playing with someone who
has a generic script in their head about how things should
be, or with someone who had read a manual, supposing to be
BDSM 101 or worse yet, some novel they had picked up at
their local bookstore.
"Kiss my feet," I said.
I love being touched and kissed and caressed. My entire body
is one large erogenous zone. There is no area of my body
that is not turned on when the touch of another rests upon
it. That's gotten me into trouble more than once.
He pressed his lips to my foot and I could feel the imprint
of them upon the surface of my skin. Soft, warm and moist.
My body is wired so that the nerves in my foot have a direct
connection to those in my cock.
He pressed those soft, wonderful lips against my foot again
and again. He covered every square inch of my foot. He moved
slowly, deliberately and as if he would kneel at my side,
kissing this foot, for the next twenty years if I so
desired.
"The other one," I said.
Incredible as it may sound, my other foot was even more
sensitive than the one he'd started with. Each humid kiss
felt as though it were landing directly upon my dick. As his
mouth traversed my foot, he varied his kisses and licks.
Sometimes there were sweet pecks; sometimes he would rub his
open mouth across my foot, back and forth, back and forth.
Other times he would open his mouth and rub his tongue
across my foot, lashing at it and sucking at the same time,
like he would do if he was kissing me or sucking my cock.
He licked and kissed my feet as though he were eating his
favorite dessert. He was totally focused on my foot in his
mouth. When he opened his mouth wide and slowly lowered it
onto my big toe, raising and lowering his head in tiny
increments, my head fell back and I groaned. He echoed the
sound. I put my hands on my thighs and dug my fingers into
my skin.
He very, very, very gently nipped at my big toe and I
groaned again and thrust my hips upward. He removed my toe
from his mouth and began kissing my foot frantically. I
fought to keep from grabbing my cock.
"Stop," I said.
He stopped immediately, his entire body trembling with the
effort.
He knelt there in front of me on all fours, chest moving up
and down rapidly as he struggled to catch his breath. He
licked his lips, sucking on them and I wondered if he was
searching for the taste of me. His eyes were lowered to the
floor.
"Touch me," I said.
He crawled onto the couch and knelt at my side. To my
surprise, he started with my face. His touch was light and
gentle. He caressed the contours of my face as if he was
trying to imprint my features upon the surface of his hands.
When his fingers crossed my lips, involuntarily my lips
pressed against them. He leaned closer to me, so close that
I could feel his breath across my skin; his nose was almost
nuzzling mine. I could feel the yearning in him.
Nah. Uh unh. No kissing. Fuck that.
He backed away a little. I looked at him but he wouldn't
meet my eyes. His hands stroked upwards and buried
themselves into the tiny twists scattered all over my head.
He pulled on them and grabbed at them carefully with an
innocent fascination that told me he had wanted to do this
for a very long time.
His hands slid down towards my hairless chest. He circled my
small nipples with both thumbs until they were hard and
erect and I was struggling not to cry out. Almost bashfully,
his hand worked its way down to my cock, which was
unbearably hard and lying flat against my stomach. He
brushed his hand against it.
My eyes closed and I arched my back. Shit. It had been so
long since I had been touched by any hand other than my own.
The sensation was so exquisite that tears sprang to my eyes.
I resisted the urge to keep his hand right there, pressed
against my aching flesh. He explored my cock curiously,
measuring it with both hands, attempting to wrap his fist
around it and not succeeding. He stroked it up and down,
playing with it.
I could feel his eyes on me, attempting to gauge my response
to what he was doing. He scraped across the slit with the
tip of his finger, back and forth a couple of times and the
groan I had been holding back surfaced against my will. I
pressed my head against the back of the couch and grabbed
his wrist.
"I'm thinking this isn't such a good idea," I said hoarsely.
He said nothing.
He really didn't have to.
I had started this after all.
I fisted my hand in his silky hair. God. It was as soft as I
thought it would be. I yanked his head back, hard and it was
as though I pulled a string.
His mouth opened. "I'll do anything you want," he said.
A smack to the head couldn't have been anymore startling. My
cock heard the words and processed them before I did. It
lurched and a thick drop of precum formed on the tip. His
hand was still resting lightly upon it and he whimpered
softly.
"You want it too bad," I said to him.
I think I was really talking to myself.